Things We'll Never Say
by OCDdegrassi
Summary: He knows that he shouldn't be here, but he can't stay away. James/Petunia.


**Title:** Things We'll Never Say  
 **Author:** OCDdegrassi  
 **Pairing:** James/Petunia  
 **Rating:** M  
 **Warning:** Sexual Content, Infidelity, Angst  
 **Note:** Written for the "Weird Prompt Strikes Back! [Daily Challenge]." I've decided that I ship this couple. Blame Lamia.

xxx

He shouldn't be here. He's a married man, and she isn't even beautiful or smart or sweet like Lily. She's a mean-spirited, damaged bitch. Yet here he is - again. This certainly isn't the first time, and he knows (hopes) that it won't be the last.

He loves the noises that she makes when he's licking her clit. It's the only time she lets her guard down, writhing and moaning as she grasps the sheets until her knuckles are white. The fact that he's the the one making her lose control is intoxicating. Lily never lets him lick her pussy; she thinks it's weird.

He's already hard and leaking by the time she peaks, arching her back and shaking violently all over. He moves up her body, not waiting for her to catch her breath before shoving his prick inside her still-convulsing hole. He groans, closing his eyes as the tight, wet heat envelops him. He feels high.

He should be at home with his wife, but instead, he's thrusting inside her sister as she rocks back and forth against his hips. She's not even that attractive. She doesn't have Lily's shining red hair or striking green eyes, and she certainly doesn't have her friendly smile. But when she's underneath him, her mask of anger and hate wiped off her face as sweat glistens on her skin, he thinks she's beautiful.

He should feel guilty about this, but he doesn't feel anything except spite. He knows that Lily is imaging Severus whenever he fucks her. He realized it when they'd had too much wine to drink one night, and she called out the greasy git's name. He'd felt disgusted and sick, but he never brought it up again. Right now, inside Petunia, he knows that she's not imaging anyone else.

The thing he likes most about his wife's sister is that she never pretends to be a good person. She is insulting and rude, but at least she isn't a wolf in sheep's clothing. If anything, he's beginning to realize that she's a sheep in wolf's clothing. Lily pretends to love him even though she wants to be with Severus; Petunia pretends to hate him even though they both know it's a lie.

"I bet your muggle husband doesn't make you feel like this. I bet he doesn't lick your pussy until you explode or fuck you until you scream his name." He's taunting her, but he's also reminding himself that he has no reason to be jealous of Vernon Dursley - no matter how much his heart disagrees. She glares at him, her nails digging warningly into his back, and he groans.

"Fuck you," she retorts angrily, but he thinks she looks like an annoyed kitten, and he laughs breathlessly.

He starts to bite her neck, licking and sucking until the skin turns bright red. He wants to leave a mark that her husband will see it. He wants Vernon to know that Petunia belongs to him – marriage or not. She knows exactly what he's doing - she always does – and she pushes him away. She opens her mouth to insult him again, but he crashes their lips together before the words come out. `

She doesn't taste anything like Lily. Petunia tastes like coconuts and rum; Lily tastes like honey. In all honesty, James has always hated honey. He thrusts harder, making the bed bang against the wall, but they don't care. For someone who claims to hate magic, Petunia is fine with using silencing charms. He pulls his mouth away from hers, his lips still tingling from the contact.

"Tell me how much you love me," he demands, knowing that she will never say it. She laughs cruelly.

"I hate you, James," she breathes out. They both know it's a lie. She used to call him Potter.

He's getting close; his thrusts are becoming erratic, and he's breathing heavily. She kisses him once more with a rare, gentle vulnerability, and it's the closest that she ever comes to telling him how she really feels. It catches him off guard, and his orgasm washes over him like a tidal wave.

He empties himself inside her, resting his forehead against hers. They stay still for a moment, their breath mingling as they come down from their high. He wants to stay inside her longer, but he knows they both have to leave, so he reluctantly pulls out.

"We need to get a better room next time," he comments, looking around the dirty, cheap hotel room. The place doesn't seem good enough for her. She rolls her eyes as she pulls up her underwear and skirt.

"There's not going to be a next time." They both know that isn't true.

He knows that he should stay away, but she's like a drug that he can't quit. He also knows that he should wear a condom or at least pull out when he's with her, but a part of him wants to get her pregnant. He wants to see her stomach swelling with a magical child; _his_ child. He wants everyone to know exactly who she belongs to.

He stops at the door, looking back at her with the words on the tip of his tongue. He wants to say them, and she waits for him with a guarded yet hopeful look in her eyes. Instead, he ends up leaving in a disappointing silence, just like he always does. If she won't say it, then neither will he.

xxx

 **A/N:** Reviews are always appreciated!


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